


Behind Closed Doors in Lake Town

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Series: Thorin/Reader Stories [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf!Reader, Esgaroth, F/M, Lake Town, Mentions of previous sexual partners, Pure Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of keeping your feelings secret from the blind dwarf prince, things come to a head in Lake Town</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind Closed Doors in Lake Town

**Author's Note:**

> * You have no idea what effect you have on me
> 
> **Tease

Esgaroth was not an easy town to navigate. Everything was the same few shades of brown and grey, there were no markers and no directions, and everything had the same putrid smell of fish and stagnant water. Hence, you were incredibly grateful that it was up to Thorin, Dwalin and the Men of Lake Town to lead you from the Town Hall to your new accommodation.

You were filled with a certain sadness and guilt at so easily tossing Bard and his hospitality aside. In truth, you would have preferred to spend the night under his roof. But you followed where your king led, and your king was leading you towards a large lodging with a large dining room and bedrooms for all of the dwarves and Master Baggins.

The lodgings loomed in front of you; four floors of grey wood that looked half rotted and a roof that wouldn’t keep out anything more than a heavy drizzle, but it would serve the purpose of housing you and the others for this night and the next. You wanted to be gone by sunrise the following morning, but you need clothes and clothes take time to make.

The Master threw the doors open to the lodgings as though they led to a palace, and proceeded to give Thorin the brief tour whilst the rest of you shucked off what you wore on your feet.

“There will be food delivered tomorrow morning, along with firewood and temporary clothing!” the Master rattled on for a few minutes about the correct way to light a fire in Lake Town without burning the place down. Thorin, Dwalin, Gloin and Bilbo are left to listen whilst the rest of you take your leave and go in search of beds.

You find a room on the third floor that has a double bed and a bathroom attached. Well, it’s a fancy hole in the floor, but it’s better than the cell in Mirkwood.

Bofur takes the room opposite you, and Bifur is on your right. The room on your left remains empty. You change quickly and make for the bed, desperate for some sleep. However, as you slip under the covers, there’s a light knocking on the door.

Your brothers have already retired on one floor or another, and there’s no one else who would be calling on you. Except for one….

“Good evening, Thorin.” You manage a tight smile as you open the door to the king. You’re tired and hungry and you just want to sleep, not to get into a debate. “What can I do for you at _such a late_ hour?” You blink innocently at him, hoping he’ll get the message, but he doesn’t.

Instead he steps into the room. You’d say something sarcastic, but it really isn’t worth it.

“I hope you’re not going to try to convince me to stay here. You tried that at Beorn’s and look how well that turned out.” 

“It would be best if you were to return home. You are my sister’s closet friend.”

“You’re her brother. That makes you more important than me.”

Thorin sighs. “Surely there is someone back in Ered Luin you would return to? A potential lover?”

You snort and roll your eyes. “There was once.”

“What happened?”

A year ago and you would have never said anything out of turn but now… “He decided to lead a bunch of dwarves across Middle Earth to battle a dragon.”

It seems to knock Thorin in the head a little. “You mean… _me_?”

You give a small not of confirmation.

“That- That’s why you won’t leave?”

You nod again. “I shall not leave you. Not for another dwarf, not to save my own hide, not even if you ordered me away. I am loyal to my foundations and-”

Thorin’s lips land on yours, rough beard scratching against your chin and cheeks. His hands land on your waist, pushing you back until your shoulders hit the door to your room. He presses firmly against you, wearing as little clothing as you. The feeling of muscle and head shoots straight between your legs.

His thick fingers burry in your hair, holding you in the kiss.

Your brain had faulted the second his lips had connected with yours, but not it’s kick-started and the reality of what’s happening finally dawns on you. Your hands tangle in the fabric of his tunic, just as he breaks the kiss.

*“Mêni aktub 'imbakh kulhu mahindidi mêni igriy e.” he growls lowly, removing a hand from your hair to tug the hem of your tunic away from your neck.

He plants his mouth hungrily at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, but makes no move to continue any further. 

**“Id-ash.” You growl and he chuckles against your skin.

It’s the invitation that he needs to continue, and Thorin opens his mouth. His tongue and teeth graze against your skin, forcing the air from your lungs.

He kisses and nibbles along your neck, hands snaking even farther down your body. They slide to the hem of your tunic, tentative fingers probing under the fabric. When you make no move to stop him, his palms flatten against the bare skin of your stomach and snake upwards until his fingertips brush the underneath of your unbound breasts.

You moan, hands lifting from Thorin’s shoulders to bury in his hair instead. “Thorin…” you back arches, dislodging his mouth from your throat.

Thorin growls, beard scratching at your sensitive skin. He cups your breasts fully in his hands, which seem rather cool in contrast to the rest of him.

In a fluid move he removes his hands and pushes your tunic off. He makes no attempt to remove it, just exposes you to the cool night air.

Your nipples harden almost instantly, giving Thorin something to latch onto. He bites, pinches, rolls and licks at them until you’re squirming against the door.

He stops abruptly, capturing your lips again as his hands travel down to the waistband of your trousers.

Your tunic is pressed between your collar bone and his chest, exposing your nipples to the coarse fabric of his clothes. The burn is half painful and half arousing, but your attention is quickly diverted.

Thorin slips his hand under the waistband of your trousers, tentatively feeling down to the hair that grows between your legs. His fingers find your slick slit, and he mutters something about how wet your are as his middle finger probes your entrance.

You’re shaking, but he doesn’t push any further. “Thorin…” You moan, clutching at him desperately.

Thorin pulls back in a swift movement, eyes you for a moment, and then scoops you up into his arms. He turns and quite literally _throws_ you onto the bed. You pray that no one has occupied the room below.

Your eyes pop when the other dwarf rips your tunic open, exposing your torso to the night air. He takes a little more care with your trousers, slipping them down over your feet.

He himself is dressed in the clothes that he escaped Mirkwood in, and he makes quick work of undoing laces and shrugging his clothes off. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him when he’s fully naked.

He is, without a doubt, the finest dwarf you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. From the grooves of muscle to the hair on his legs, he is perfect. His story is detailed across his body in inkings and scars, the majority of which are covered in dense hair. His dwarf-hood is almost fully erect, and you start to throb just by looking.

Thorin crawls onto the bed on top of you, tantalizingly dragging his body across yours. You feel him dragging, hot and heavy, against the inside of your thigh. His lips press firmly to yours once more as he feels down your body and hooks your leg up over his hip. The new position pulls his lower body almost flush against yours, and you can feel his cock rubbing agonisingly at your clit.

“Has anyone ever told you,” Thorin breathes as he breaks the kiss, “that you are beautiful?”

He breathes heavily, warm breath ghosting over your skin. “This is the only time the words have meant anything to me.”

Dwarves were not a race for foreplay, and none of the dwarves you had given much thought to you. Thorin was not one of those dwarves.

He shifted slightly, the very tip of his cock pressing against your opening. “Are you ready?”

You nod mutely and, with a twitch of his hips, the tip of him slides inside. He pauses before carefully sheathing himself inside of you.

It seems that the line of Durin is incredibly well endowed, as the feeling of pure pleasure is accompanied by a burning sensation.

Thorin pulled out before pushing back in with a fluid motion. As he moves he rubs against something inside of you that has sparks erupting behind your closed eyes. You whimper, hands clutching tightly at the bed sheets as your head rolls from side to side.

Your lover releases his hold on your leg to fully support himself, giving you the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist, giving him a new angle to rub against you.

Your hips buck in time to his thrusts, each motion sending waves of raw heat through your body.

“No other dwarf will ever see you like this again.” Thorin growls lowly in your ear. His hair has fallen forwards and brushes against your shoulders, shielding your face from the world. “You shall never take another bed partner again. You are _mine_ and I do _not_ share. Understand?”

You whimper and nod in agreement.

“Good.”

Thorin’s weight shifts above you as he moves one hand slowly down your body. He caresses your chest, your stomach and your thighs, finally coming to rest at the junction of your legs.

“Open your eyes.” He commands. “Look at me.”

It’s physically impossible for you to do it with Thorin thrusting inside of you. He knows this and stops, refusing to move until you’ve opened your eyes.

Thorin refuses to let you break eye contact as he resumes his thrusting, your hips once more rising to meet his. The hand that has trailed lower starts to rub against your clit, small circles of heavy pressure that, combined with the way Thorin is moving inside you, leaves you a quivering mess.

“Let go.” Thorin encourages, leaning down to capture your mouth in a heated, sloppy kiss. “ _Let go_.”

The fire in your blood seems to shoot down between your legs, before erupting in waves that shake your body and have you throwing your head back in ecstasy. In the midst of your pleasure you’re vaguely aware of him spilling himself inside of you.

Exhausted, he collapses on top of you, still nestled within your body.

“You,” he murmurs against your chest before withdrawing himself and rolling onto the bed next to him, “can never give another being that sort of pleasure again.” He reaches out and pulls you to him.

“But Thorin, our roles were reversed.” You look up at him with the most innocent expression you can muster. “If it’s pleasure you want, then its pleasure I can give you.”  


End file.
